The Man Who Knew Too Little

ch 14

by Jokers

A/N: So in case any of you notice. Yes, Raphael is referred to by female pronouns. I went back and edited all the chapters so that she is always referred to by female pronouns. This occurred because we realized that, while two out of three isn't exactly enough vessels to form a distinctive pattern of preference, Raphael seems to possess the ladies more often in this universe.

"Ah, Michael, you have returned," the Archangel nodded, kneeling down in front of his Father and presenting him with the Lance. God took it, examining it with detached curiosity, "So this is the weapon that can slay me? I am unimpressed. I have seen holy items with more power intended to clean dishes! Well, it's unimportant now. We have it, so the traitors will have a rather difficult time using it on me," His oily smile grew wider, "it will only be a matter of time before they fall."

"Yes Father." Michael replied dully. He was still learning the proper expressions and tones of voice to match with certain circumstances. It took a substantial amount of time for him to compile references from his memories, but it was also necessary. He could not exact God's wrath if he could not at least feign anger. He did not have to put much effort into false emotions around his Father, though, so he would save that until he had perfected the art. Or perhaps not at all. God seemed rather satisfied with him as he was. Why shouldn't He be? He had created Michael as such, and God never made mistakes.

"Did you have any trouble acquiring this little…trinket?" God asked, absentmindedly twirling the Lance as though it were a baton and not a large and deadly weapon.

"The demon would not cooperate with our efforts. I was forced to kill her." God must have already known this, but Michael had no right, nor any desire, to question Him.

God sighed, "Well, I suppose we'll have to make do without her. We're almost finished anyway. Once I've consolidated all the energy I spread out during Creation, I can do it again. This time I'll make sure they're less obstinate. It was amusing for the first hundred thousand years, but now it's just boring. You may stand, Michael, I have no further need of you." The angel stood wordlessly, leaving God's throne room quickly so as not to needlessly disturb his Father.

He flew to a secluded corner of Heaven. Well, given the small number of occupants in Heaven who could wander within it, most of Heaven was secluded at the moment. This place, however, had always been so. It was wooded and, unlike most of Paradise, dark. This was one of the few places in Heaven which possessed shadows, and so the thick tree cover shaded the ground from the light which eternally illuminated the rest of the realm. As far as Michael was aware, few angels visited the dim forest, either because they preferred the bright Gardens, or because they (like Michael) had no preferences and were simply too busy to make such a trip. Michael did not know why he recently made a habit of going to this place when he had no instructions, but he had several times in the past few days. It did not particularly worry him, not only because he had no concept of the feeling, but because God would not leave him without any necessary knowledge. So the archangel could only assume that it was right for him to gravitate toward these woods, but that it was not of enough importance for God to give him the knowledge of why.

There was a brief itch in the back of his mind, as though something had been trapped there for a very long time and was attempting to burrow its way out. Just as it attracted Michael's attention however, it disappeared, and Michael continued standing amongst the trees, unmoving. After five minutes, twenty-two point five seconds, he heard a far off rustling noise. Michael turned just as Curmudgeon stepped from between two bushes.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Michael the archangel! I haven't seen you in a few days. What exactly do you do when God isn't keeping you busy?" Michael didn't answer the human scientist, whose slightly amused smirk turned sour. He growled at him, grabbing his collar. "Stop ignoring me." Michael could have easily smited him right then and there, but decided that as the man was, for some reason or another, important to his Father, that would be unwise.

"I wait." Michael answered after a few seconds. Curmudgeon set him down, then, staring at him.

"You wait? The great Archangel Michael just stands around whenever he isn't being given orders? That's so…boring! Even the Devil was more interesting than that." Michael tilted his head to the side. He had not been made aware of any interactions between the doctor and the Morningstar. Curmudgeon must have mistaken his actions for confusion, because he continued on, mad smile wide and eyes bright with excitement.

"Oh, it was interesting. He started going mad far faster than any of the others. I wonder what he was afraid of? He didn't say, exactly, just kept mumbling on and on about cages and fire. It was incredibly entertaining, even more so now that I know he isn't human. I would have thought the chemical wouldn't work on him, but-" The scientist cut himself off , his grin somehow becoming even wider than before.

"Oh, oh, oh. I know what would be absolutely wonderful. Do you know if your Master is busy at the moment?" Michael shook his head, "Well, could you take me to him? I have a fantastic idea." It seemed harmless. After all, Curmudgeon couldn't exactly injure God, and was too much of a coward to try even if he had a slight chance of success. Michael placed a hand on the human's shoulder, and the two of them disappeared, leaving the forest as empty as it had been before.

"Shit." Lucifer said as they were surrounded by demons. He was fairly sure that between the two of them he and Gabe could take them down, but he didn't particularly like fighting absurdly large groups of people no matter the situation. Besides, judging from the smirk on one of the demon's face, things were about to get a lot worse.

The black-eyed creature dropped a match, and a ring of holy fire sprung up around the former Devil. Lucifer looked over at Gabriel but, thankfully, the Trickster was standing outside the circle.

"Good luck getting out of this one." The demon chuckled, just before a silvery knife appeared through his chest. Gabe spat at the corpse, then turned to his Brother.

"Just hold on until I'm done, Lucy."

"That just won't do." The female demon holding the Lance said, an evil glitter in her eye. She moved to the side, revealing a circle drawn in dark red liquid. Lucifer thought that it was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"An angel banishing sigil?" Gabriel asked. Tilting his head and squinting. Lucifer followed suit. Yes, it looked rather similar, but with a few-

"But with a few modifications," She said, "You see, this one links to another one, right inside that circle your big bro is trapped in. I got blood from dear old Michael special for this. Now, I wonder what happens if you boot an angel from a place they can't leave? Let's find out." Before the Messenger could stop her, she pressed her hand on the markings.

A sharp pain tore through Lucifer, like sharp claws sinking into his arms and legs. It tugged, hard, and he felt himself pulled forward. His body tried to move somewhere, anywhere else, but then he felt himself hit a wall, and knew he had reached the edge of the circle. He tried to back up, but the banishing sigil prevented him, so he was forced to stand, pressed against an invisible barrier that sent shocks through his Grace as the banishing sigil tugged at him. Black spots danced around his eyes, growing and consuming him until there was nothing left. Even though his whole body was alive with agony, he felt his limbs begin to relax, his mind growing foggy, and then he fell asleep and nothing hurt anymore.

"Luce? Hey. Lucy." It was Gabriel's voice that woke Lucifer up, not the raw ache he felt where his body was pressed against a bed, or the conglomeration of amateur bowling ball jugglers that seemed to have taken up residence in his head.

"Ow." He said simply, throwing one arm over his face against the too bright light. He hardly had a moment to regain his bearings before he was tackled, said arm pulled away from his eyes as Gabriel kissed him.

"I was worried," Gabe said, after he had calmed down and snuggled next to Lucifer, "when you collapsed I killed them all. Well, except the one that got away with the Lance. I didn't even notice, I was too busy trying to find out where they kept the holy water sprinklers or whatever."

"So they have the Lance?" Lucifer asked, his unnecessary pulse quickening.

"Oh come on, Lucy, I'm trying to tell you how desperate I was about you almost dying." Gabriel said, melodramatically.

"Gabriel, this is important. If we can't kill God, we're probably all going to die." Gabriel sighed, and the arms around Lucifer's shoulders tightened.

"I know. But can we just have a little while before we jump back into things? If we do die, I don't want to spend my last days worried. And if we don't, well, we won't have had any control of it. The boys are looking for another way to deal with dear old Dad. You're resting..." He paused for a second, expression changing slightly, a seductive grin slipping onto his face, "...I'm exploring New Boyfriend privileges."

"Oh?" Lucifer asked, almost completely forgetting about the Lance and their Father as Gabriel's pupils dilated slightly, "And what are those?"

"Well," Gabriel's grin grew, "I was thinking."

"Yes?"

"You'd never had a vessel before the Apocalypse, and then you seemed kinda…busy. Which means you haven't done certain," the Trickster hummed, "things."

"Things?" the Morningstar scoffed, mocking his brother's word choice. Gabriel smirked back at him, pressing their lips together slowly, passionately.

When he backed off again Lucifer had a little trouble forming coherent words. "...oh. Those things..." Gabriel grinned and kissed him again, then, and whispered in his ear.

"I'm not letting you die a virgin."

Raphael watched as Curmudgeon spoke to her Father from a well concealed hiding spot. She knew God could find her if He really wanted to, but He seemed to be distracted by His new toys, and by His oldest son.

"That sounds like a splendid idea." He said, staring at Michael with a look of calculating glee that, to be completely honest, disturbed Raphael quite a bit. Which was absurd. She didn't even know what they were talking about, had just been wandering by and had, for some reason, felt an irrational need to listen in. For all she knew, they could be talking about taking a walk in the Gardens.

She shifted a little, once again uncomfortable in her own skin. Recently, God had decided that her vessel was too young, too small, to be, as Lucifer had said during their fight, "a tactical advantage." So he had made it older, changing it from a prepubescent girl to a young woman of around college age. It was more similar in form to her previous vessel, but she had gotten so used to her diminutive height and, well, flat chest, that adjusting back was a challenge.

Raphael was distracted from her vain attempts to sit in a way that did not make her cleavage supremely irritating by Curmudgeon removing a small vial from his pocket.

"Now," the scientist said to Michael, voice slimy and patronizing in a way that made Raphael want to plug her ears to keep the sludge out, "all you have to do is breath this in." He removed the stopper, holding whatever the concoction was under the archangel's nose.

For a moment, nothing happened. Michael had, indeed, inhaled, but it did not seem to affect him, as he continued to stare blankly off into space.

"Hmm, it would appear that the emotions were wiped so completely from his mind that-" Curmudgeon was interrupted when a flailing arm hit him in the face. The scientist stumbled back, grin reforming despite the blood dripping from his nose, "-I stand corrected."

Michael backed away from the scientist, eyes wide with something that, had it been on anyone else's face, Raphael would have called fear. But Michael didn't feel fear. Did he? The way his shoulders heaved up and down, the way his hands shook as he saw his Father, the way he almost curled in on himself where he stood, those were all signs of pure terror. And the way Curmudgeon'The doctor who deals in fear' was looking at him, like he were a lab rat that had just run successfully through the maze, definitely indicated that Michael was afraid.

God was smiling almost as widely as Curmudgeon, "congratulations, good doctor. It would appear your little test was successful," He addressed Michael then, as though the angel were delivering a report and not backing away from Him slowly, "Now, Michael. Tell me what you're afraid of."

Michael looked around, not seeming to see either of the people standing in front of him. He glanced about wildly, muttering something softly. Raphael leaned as far forward as she dared, listening in.

"Lucifer? Where are you? No. He isn't here. He's gone. It's my fault, all my fault. He's gone and Gabriel's dead and… Where's Raphael?" The last line was even more panicked than the rest, and Raphael felt her heart clench. Michael turned about, searching until his eyes rested on Raphael's hiding spot. For a moment, Raphael thought she was going to be caught, but her brother just stared at her pleadingly, then turned away and continued on as though she wasn't there.

After a short while, he seemed to give up. He turned back around, his eyes first resting on God, then Curmudgeon, and his posture changed. There was still that bone-deep fear in his Grace, but it was overshadowed by a smothering anger that made Raphael back off and seal her Grace off from him. He flew at the scientist, growling, and drew his sword, running it into Curmudgeon's chest.

"Leave my brothers alone." He said, obviously putting great effort into keeping his voice even, and then looked up at his Father's throne.

God was not in it anymore. Instead, He was next to Michael, His eyes filled with mock concern.

"Oh dear," the divine being said, "It appears that your reeducation is not as complete as I had thought. Don't worry, my son, we can fix that." Michael flinched away, but God was faster, placing a deceivingly gentle hand on his cheek. Raphael slowly, carefully, reached out to her brother and felt his Grace, swirling and, surprisingly, completely sure in its course of action. Then, God's influence began to spread, not calming but tearing away at Michael's very thoughts. As surreptitiously as possible, Raphael pulled a thread of Michael's unclaimed Grace out of him, storing it in a tightly guarded place beside her own. Then, she disappeared, before God could notice her and "correct" her behavior as well.

Castiel had given up trying to escape on his own quite a while ago. Once that was done, he expected to fade away, consumed by his Father's overpowering Presence. Instead, quite the opposite happened. When he didn't fight, God found other things to occupy himself with, and the Angel of Thursday was given more freedom to do other things. He began testing the bounds of his prison, quickly backing off whenever He turned His attention toward him. After a bit of practice, he found he could extend bits of his Grace beyond his prison.

Mostly, he watched, keeping an eye on Michael and Raphael. He hadn't particularly liked either of them in the past, but God had taunted him with enough memories to know that it wasn't their fault for what they had done or what had happened to them. He hovered over Michael while the other angel stood stoically after God had torn the thoughts from his head, stood over Raphael's shoulder while she struggled to understand why everything felt so wrong, rejoiced when he heard that Gabriel and Lucifer had managed to escape from Him, at least for a time. It still felt...strange to him to think of Lucifer as an ally. But he would have to get past that.

It took longer for him to figure out how to influence. He started small: moving a twig here, suggesting the human scientist go left instead of right there. He had planned to keep practicing when Curmudgeon agreed to God's proposal. Castiel knew that what was going to happen to Michael would be terrible, so he felt a pang of guilt when he realized it was also an opportunity. Raphael had been on the fence about their Father for several of Heaven's years by then, and Castiel knew it would take a grievous act of cruelty to push her over to the other side.

So he whispered in her ear that she should listen in on God's secretive meeting with Curmudgeon and Michael, and hoped she could avoid getting caught long enough to see the light.

Raphael flew as far across Heaven as she could, only stopping when she reached a dark forest. Then, she landed, looking around. She couldn't remember ever visiting this spot, but it felt so familiar.

Michael laughed, his Grace thrumming against hers as he guided her into the shady woods.

"Trust me, Raphael. This darkness is a good kind."

"Alright, alright," She conceded, "But shouldn't we be doing our jobs?"

"I doubt we're about to go to war right this very moment, Raphael. No one's hurt, the armies deserve a rest, and I want you to see this place."

She had to admit, the woods were beautiful in their own way. The trees were tall, taller than any on Earth, with trunks as wide as several Humans standing close together and branches that reached toward the light that shone above Heaven. Everything was a mixture of greens and browns, with smatterings of bright color wherever berries grew. She sighed, deciding she might as well enjoy herself.

"How often do you come here?"

"Every day, usually. No one ever comes here, so it's a good place to think. Be alone."

"Why did you bring me here if it's your place to be alone?"

"Because you're my favorite." Michael leaned into her, and she felt warmer than normal. She kept calm, somehow, and managed to respond normally. At least, she hoped she did.

"Oh come on. Everyone knows Lucifer's your favorite." Michael smiled at her.

"Lucifer was my first brother. I love him. But he's not my favorite."

"What about Gabriel? You always dote on him."

"I dote on him because he's a child. Not because I like him most. The three of you are my favorite brothers, but you're the one that I like best out of them all."

Raphael couldn't think of any way to respond to that. Mostly because she couldn't form coherent sentences in her head. Instead she took in the forest and all its beauty, vowing to remember it.

Raphael gasped, falling to her knees. She looked around at the trees and bushes. Yes, this was the forest in the vision, unchanged by the passage of time. She stood, looking around as more and more information fell into place. She had to find out whether what she remembered was true, or if she was just going mad.

She walked, keeping careful track of her progress. A hundred feet, turn left. At the elm, turn right and go down the hill. Continue forward, and take the right fork in the path. Look up and-

She gasped. There it was. A statue, carved in stone, stood in a clearing. A human stood, staring curiously in her direction, narrowed in thought. She ran over to it, placing a hand on the pedestal beneath his feet, and found she had begun to cry.

She and Michael had found it when they were walking together. It had been a mystery to both of them, why it was there, and that had been part of the appeal. There were a lot of divine mysteries in the universe, but none that were solely theirs. They had stood together for a long while, guessing as to where the man had come from.

He was tall and broad, with long hair and a finely trimmed beard. He looked forward, as though searching for something, one gloved hand on his hip and the other around-

Raphael blinked. The man was holding the Holy Lance, perpendicular to the ground, the point toward the sky. Yet another mystery. One that, if she couldn't fix things, she would be the only one to know about. She found that she didn't like mysteries to solve alone as she liked ones shared with Michael.

Straightening, Raphael looked up at the statue. She would just have to save him then.

Putting aside the thought that she had no idea how, Raphael strode from the clearing, determined to reclaim her brother – the kind, caring brother who took her to the woods and told her she was his favorite – from under God's thumb.